How You Know I Did Not Write This
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: A short oneshot of me poking fun at my own writing. Tim has a perfect day. :


**A/N:** Originally written April 2009. I'm well aware of the stories I'm best known for writing. Believe it or not, I do realize how dark and dour my stories get on occasion (okay, okay, often). However, a little self-awareness isn't necessarily a bad thing. I wrote this oneshot after I got a review suggesting that my writing was getting stale, that my stories were all the same. Normally, I don't let negative reviews get to me, but being accused of having lame ideas got to me...so I wrote this to break my writing funk. It's so far from being serious that it's probably not actually funny, but I sure enjoyed writing it. In order to read it, you may need to place your tongue firmly in your cheek to get into the right spirit. You may also be able to pick out a few plot points in the midst of the silliness.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own NCIS. I don't make money off my writing...stale or not.

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**How You Know I Did _Not_ Write This  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

Tim opened his eyes and greeted the new day. He had _not_ had any nightmares. He did _not_ have demons to face that day. He was _not_ living off too little sleep (well, maybe a little. Working on his book had that effect on him). There was _not_ a dead body sharing his bed...and he had _not_ been drugged. He was _not_ being watched...not by anyone. The CIA was _not_ watching him. Assassins were _not_ gunning for him.

All in all, it was a lovely start to the day. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. The grass green. Beautiful. Lovely. All that was missing was...

_Tweet!_

Ah, a bird singing happily outside his window. Tim grinned and got up. He had plenty of time to get to work. He would _not_ suddenly lose an hour to buried memories of a previous life. Instead, he went into his bathroom to get ready. He showered and did _not_ have any problems with bad associations with water. Nor did his showerhead attack him. He got dressed and went into the main living area. As he happily ate his dinosaur cereal, he considered, wondering why this day felt so...different. He shrugged and focused instead on finishing off the bowl. He did so, grabbed a cup of coffee to go and left his apartment.

He drove to work and did _not_ get in an accident. He found a parking space near the front doors of NCIS. Traffic had been light. No problems at all. As he walked into the bullpen, he saw Tony and Ziva. They had _not_ snooped into his personal things...not that he had anything to hide at work. He did _not_ have any sort of personal agenda. Gibbs came in.

"We have a case." He gestured.

Tim did _not_ get left behind to brood. Tony and Ziva did _not_ tease him. In fact, the camaraderie he felt with his team was bracing. They drove to the scene. There was _not_ anything bad there. (...okay, okay. I'm sure the dead body did _not_ appreciate becoming a dead body.) So...there wasn't anything _too_ bad. Basic robbery gone wrong. There was, of course, some vital stuff to be done. Tim was directed to do his part. He did it and he did _not_ trip over his own feet. He did _not_ break anything. He did _not_ mess up. No one with a score to settle showed up at the scene and started shooting. Thus, Tim did _not_ have a reason to feel guilty or to go to the hospital or to do anything besides his job.

They drove back to NCIS. Tim began to work. He pulled some amazing computer skills out of the air and found the crucial piece of evidence they needed. He did _not_ break the law. He did _not_ mess up first so that he had to backtrack. When they congratulated him on his work, he did _not_ become all arrogant and need some sort of comeuppance to knock him back down a few pegs.

The day was going so well that Tim actually felt strange. He wasn't sure why he was thinking something bad had to happen. Nothing bad was happening at all.

So, he went on with his day. He had some free time and he decided to go down to visit Abby. She did _not_ treat him like dirt. In fact, she solicitously asked how he was doing and they made plans to meet up after work. She did _not_ berate him about his dog. She did _not_ try to make him feel jealous and she did _not_ act childishly.

Tim went back up to the bullpen and continued his work. He worked well. That meant... (okay, okay, there _was_ one head slap, but even on the best day, a person can have a moment. Besides, head slaps keep them on their toes.) It was such a lovely day.

He decided that he'd call his family. Since his father had _not_ committed suicide and he did _not_ have horrific memories of finding his body or anything of that nature, it was _not_ a difficult thing to talk to his parents.

After work was over, he picked up Abby, but then, somehow the dinner turned into a huge group event. Ducky, Jimmy, Tony, Ziva, Gibbs, even Vance all showed up and they decided to make a fun time of it. He got home pretty late, but _not_ too late. He drove safely and arrived at home still in a buoyant mood.

Tim got ready for bed and his final thought as he lay his head down on his pillow was this:

_I'm so glad that I've never been depressed, tried to commit suicide, been accused of murder, been chased by assassins, been kidnapped, tortured, maimed, shot, been nearly killed in a car accident (well, besides the one when I was sixteen), concealed evidence that led to my near mental breakdown, had a _real_ mental breakdown, been coerced into committing crimes, been attacked by anyone, been used in a sordid lovers' quarrel or seen ghosts._

With that final thought, he smiled and went to sleep.

All was right with the world.

FINIS!


End file.
